A generous spirituality

Evangelical responses to the paradigm shift we are currently experiencing in the western world have focused for the most part on the deconstructionist tendencies of postmodernism. Led by philosophers such as Foucault and Derrida postmodern thinkers have challenged reigning paradigms for the past forty years, demonstrating the inconsistencies and difficulties in many of our most basic assumptions. In evangelical circles deconstruction also played it’s role: we ‘deconstructed church’ and ‘deconstructed faith.’ Critics have noted the negative or reactionary tone in the conversation, and this has caused no small amount of frustration: evangelical writers on the subject (many of whom seem to band together under the name Emergent) have articulated what is it they dislike about the old paradigms and why, but have struggled to articulate what they would like to replace it with.

It would seem though that Deconstructionism seems to have played a very functional role. In deconstructing many things it seems to have created a void, space for new dreams and visions. Now that both Foucault and Derrida have died, perhaps it is time for other people to step into the created space and outline new approaches and to present new proposals.

One person who has been wanting to do so is Brian McLaren, and his latest book, a Generous Orthodoxy, is really the first constructive proposal that is presented into this by Emergent. Albeit on a popular level, A Generous Orthodoxy is really Emergent’s first theological proposal, covering a wide range of topics including how we view God, the world, evil, history, unchurched folk and the future.

Theology breeds spirituality. The two can not only not be separated, but there is a direct causal relationship between the two. What is preached by the one is practiced by the other. Theology, if you will, is to spirituality what orthodoxy is to orthopraxy. McLaren’s Generous Orthodoxy is not only a theological proposal, but very much a proposal for a different kind (or, following one of his other titles, a new kind) of spirituality.

The title of the book is taken from G.K. Chesterton’s Orthodoxy. McLaren seeks to present a version of the Christian faith that is orthodox - but rather than arriving at his version by ways of reductionism (i.e. casting away anything that is non-essential), McLaren seeks to find unique contributions from many different theological streams (as well as the green movement) that will enrich our faith, community, worship and experience, while adhering to orthodoxy and orthopraxy. This is where McLaren’s orthodoxy becomes generous: the table is large, though we come from different experiences and emphases, the party is better with all of us there. Says McLaren: without the Anabaptists, Catholics, protestants, etc., the party is hardly worth having.

The spirituality McLaren proposes is open and welcoming. It seeks to invite others in, rather than keep them out. It is a spirituality of invitation and participation. It is historically informed and culturally deepened, leaving behind insular attitudes and approaches. The Kingdom of God, which Jesus came to announce, and which the gospel is ultimately about, is too broad in scope, too open to all, and too wild to control, for any one movement or tradition to claim all of it.

Here is a brief overview of some of what McLaren proposes. Orthodoxy for McLaren starts with Jesus, but he lists 7 different approaches to Jesus he has encountered. The Jesus from the Sunday school flanel board taught him that Jesus loves all children, regardless of colour. The Conservative Protestant Jesus comes to die for us individuals. Where he is distant, the Jesus presented by the Charismatics and Pentecostals is close and intimate. Still, he doesn’t have much to say to the rest of the world. The Roman Catholic Jesus has more to say to the world: he sends the church to the world to announce freedom. Next to this the Eastern Orthodox branch of Christianity focuses on how Jesus enters into the world, and then allows the world to enter into Him. To them, Jesus is not just saviour of the saved, but of the whole cosmos. The Liberal Protestant Jesus sends the church to the world, not just to individuals, bit also to impact societal and political structures. Lastly, the Anabaptist Jesus convenes a community of disciples that commit to being his people and doing his work. As one will understand: a spirituality that is broad enough to embrace all these perspectives on Jesus, will place emphasis on a personal relationship with Jesus, forgiveness of sin, a process of sanctification, a daily walk with Christ, a missionary zeal for the world, a concern for the weak and the poor, a desire to see the Kingdom advance in every area of life, a desire to follow Jesus’ example in daily life, and an understanding that community is core to all that we do.

McLaren’s contrasts two views of God. One view is heavily impacted by modern thinking, and presents a God that is single, solitary, dominant and all-powerful. The other view, McLaren says, is more in keeping with how God reveals himself: God is a unified, eternal, mysterious, relational community/family/society of saving Love. Our view of God impacts our spirituality: the first view leads to a spirituality that is closed and seeks to be strong; the second view results in a spirituality that invites and welcomes, builds community and appreciates beauty and mystery.

Christ is at the centre of Christianity, but McLaren wonders if evangelicals at the start of the 21^st century really understand Him. He seems to have so little impact on our daily lives. Have we domesticated Jesus and made him a mascot rather than Lord? McLaren explains what it means to call Jesus Lord. A spirituality that understands Jesus as Lord is not self-centred, appreciates giving more than receiving, cares for one’s neighbour, and willingly pays a price in the process.

Salvation for McLaren is not a purely individualistic event, and it’s purpose is not just focused on the after-life. In his proposal, salvation is also for this life. In saving us Jesus restores us to do this life better. For this reason not only judgment and forgiveness are central elements to the gospel, but also Jesus’ teaching, which encourages us to leave our old ways behind and adopt the new ways of his Kingdom.

A Generous Orthodoxy expresses itself in a mission to the world. Now that we have received the love of Christ and have become part of a healing community, we are sent out to invite others into it as well. This sits in stark contrast with much of the spirituality present in churches today: rather than an understanding that we blessed to be a blessing, our behaviour reflects a belief that we are blessed and need to hard what we have received.

Generous Orthodoxy in McLaren’s mind is evangelical but not Evangelical. Evangelical (capital E) refers to a group of people who are entrenched in the culture wars, committed to seeing their agenda set the political landscape. This is an attitude McLaren does not find consistent with Christ’s attitude. Evangelical with a lower case ‘e’ refers to an attitude of passion, and readiness for action that doesn’t wait for permission to carry out the love of Christ. It is strategic and intentional in doing so, going where it has never gone before, and often where others say it can’t. It is creative and liberal in its methodology. If there is a party, says McLaren, let the evangelicals bring the passion!

Because salvation is also for this life, McLaren affirms the creative methodology Whitefield and Wesley applied to help people pursue sanctification in a lay-led movement. His hope is that we can do the same on our day and age, and says there is much in Methodism that is waiting to be rediscovered.

There is of course more that can be said about Generous Orthodoxy, but this article is not intended to be a summary that negates the need to read the book. McLaren continues to construct his Orthodoxy by combining many beautiful elements from such streams as Anglicanism and Anabaptism, Protestantism (the readiness to protest what is nor right), the Charismatic Movement, Calvinism, Catholicism (yes, including Mary), and the environmentalist (or green) movement (God’s salvation applies to God’s creation).

Lastly, McLaren presents an understanding that he calls emerging. Rather than just taking the good and jettisoning the bad from all these movements, McLaren proposes we embrace the good with the bad. He presents a ring model that develops much like a tree. Every year a tree develops new ring that envelops all this is good and bad with in – and than expands upon it. McLaren’s view is that a Generous Orthodoxy inspires a spirituality that develops and embraces, and is in turn ready to be embraced again by another wider ring in due time.

Two challenges

Let me make a couple of comments about the type of spirituality that emerges from McLaren’s proposal. McLaren presents a wide range of subjects, and looks at these subjects from a wide range of perspectives. He affirms what to appears to him to be the real thing, and assembles a faith mosaic comprised of stones from many different directions.

Critics might argue that McLaren sees faith as a Smorgas board, where one can pick and choose as one likes. This might lead to custom-made spirituality (“choose the spirituality that best fits you!”), instead of a spirituality that is traditionally and historically developed, maintained and guarded. McLaren presents such a wide array of elements that one is almost forced to choose. Churchplanters already struggle in selecting the right values for their project, as there are so many good values to choose from, and so many ways to express them. Now churchplanters have an additional challenge: which elements of this proposed spirituality are they going to prioritize over others? Or is it possible to develop a community that actually pursues all that McLaren proposes?

The challenge of McLaren’s proposal is putting it into practice. Spirituality is, to a large degree, learned behavior. Changing external behaviors (introducing candles and substituting synthesizers for guitars) will be hard enough. But the real challenge in our communities is to change the heart behind it. McLaren will no doubt reap much criticism with his proposal – and chances are those who try to introduce his thinking will as well.

Rogier Bos
November 2004

A Patient Pursuit

Having grown up as a Christian and having been on a quest to “be spiritual” and draw close to God for some 30+ years, I find myself still struggling with how to get there. New forms of spirituality are evolving every day as our world tries to figure out how to get to God.

I was very enthusiastic and driven to let God be the Lord of my life as a young man. I remember reading two books by Jerry Bridges that had a profound impact on me, The Practice of Godliness and The Pursuit of Holiness. I was also involved with The Navigators in my early adult years and they had a significant influence on my spiritual growth. My spirituality was built around the disciplines, a life that could admittedly have become legalistic and mainly focused on what I can do to become spiritual. The topic of holiness is something that has started bouncing around my head once again. Working in a more grace/freedom oriented culture these days, I struggle to figure out holiness in this context. And, as I attempt to engage an emerging postmodern culture, I wrestle with the question of how does holiness fit in? What might it look like today? How does one pursue holiness in a world where every part of holiness is being assaulted?

For me, ‘Emerging’ in emerging culture has at least two purposes: I believe the whole Church needs to ‘emerge’ into the present and the future, and I believe that both old and new forms of Church have treasures that they should share with each other. I say this because I’m reminded that “there is nothing new under the sun.” And, I’m not clever enough to think of anything new anyway. I believe that as we strive to figure this out in a postmodern, emerging culture context, we need to draw on the treasures of those who have gone before us. For instance, John Wesley was a key proponent of the holiness movement which has had a profound impact on church history and numerous lives in church history. Or, we could trace it all the way back to some of the early Christian Ascetics.

Perhaps it is helpful to try to define holiness before I go further. In the Greek New Testament, the root hag is the basis of hagiasmos, translated “holiness,” “consecration,” “sanctification.” The hag words, translated by the Hebrew qadosh, literally mean “separate, contrasting with the profane.” Separation is a major concept and a dynamic dimension of holiness. When God calls us to be holy, He is calling us to be separate from sin, separate from the unclean things of the world, separated unto Himself.

The holiness taught in the New Testament and exemplified in the life of Christ is that state in which the devil is defeated and sin is shunned; in which our will is in harmony with the will of God; in which the Holy Spirit rules the life in motive, affection, and action; in which we may be beset by temptations but have the mastery over them. Holiness is not so much an experience to be sought for itself, but rather is a byproduct of a life fully consecrated to Christ. It is God at work in our lives: shaping our characters, purifying our hearts, tutoring our minds, strengthening our wills, actualizing our highest spiritual potential.

Christ, who came to us clothed in our humanity, declared, “He that has seen Me has seen the Father.” In Christ, holiness comes alive, not merely as a definition, but as a visible incarnation. In Christ we see all the fruit of the Spirit come to perfect fulfillment in humanity. Jesus Christ is our highest definition and declaration of holiness. There can be no better definition for holiness than, Holiness is Christlikeness. Because of his power at work in believers, we are freed to become like Christ – imitators of Christ.

This journey of holiness isn’t about simply trying hard to stop doing bad things, (i.e. stop sinning) as much as it is cultivating the disciplines in our life that will facilitate holiness, or Christ-likeness. I’m not a very disciplined person in that I don’t stick with good eating habits long, nor do I consistently exercise, nor do I do a lot of other things I’d really like to do. I actually get tired of trying to do the same thing all the time like reading my Bible every morning though I know it is genuinely good for me. We must appreciate that holiness is not only about doing or not doing certain things. It is about God’s grace. It is a “dependant discipline” as Jerry Bridges calls it.

I’d like to propose a few essentials of this pursuit of holiness:

Dependent Discipline is required

We want a recipe for righteousness and sanctification, not to be told if we believe in Jesus it is done. In Christ, I have been made holy, set apart. Yet this isn’t the full reality I experience in daily living. “Disciplines help us pay attention to the Holy Spirit!”[1] Most believers desire to hear God but don’t do what it takes to put themselves in the position to hear God. A common misperception of pursuing holiness or exercising disciplines is using them to try to get God’s attention but it is really more about trying to help me pay attention to God. I’m reminded of Psalm 127:1 that says “Unless the Lord builds the house, its builder’s labor in vain. Unless the Lord watches over the city, the watchmen stand guard in vain.” Paul labored and toiled probably harder than anyone yet it is he who said “I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength.” (Philippians 4:13) Just before this verse, he says “I have learned to be content.” Life is hard. Living a Christ like life is harder; in fact it is impossible without the help of God. Our spirituality must be a constant combination of action and reliance on the grace of God and the power of the Holy Spirit. A common mistake that many of us have made is to just put a stricter regimen of spiritual exercise together instead of relying on His Spirit. Jerry Bridges says it this way: “It is precisely because we are not endowed with a reservoir of strength that we need to pray daily for the Spirit’s enabling work in us. Holiness requires continual effort on our part and continual nourishing and strengthening by the Holy Spirit.”[2] Dependence on the Holy Spirit should permeate every discipline we practice and every step we take toward holiness. There’s no room in holiness for the “self-made man.”

Preach the gospel to yourself every day!

An old spiritual habit I had was that of reminding myself of the gospel every day by quoting Galatians 2:20 which says: “I am crucified with Christ and it is no longer I who live but Christ who lives in me and this life which I now live in the flesh, I live by faith in the Son of God who loved me and gave himself up for me!” I realized in this process that I need to renew this practice. We face condemnation and ridicule every day from not only the enemy of our souls, the devil, but often from our very own self. The truth that “there is now no condemnation for those who in Christ Jesus” seems to allude us. Jerry Bridges says “when you set yourself to seriously pursue holiness, you will begin to realize what an awful sinner you are. And if you are not firmly rooted in the gospel and have not learned to preach it to yourself every day, you will soon become discouraged and will slack off in your pursuit of holiness.”[3] It is vital that we not only have a grip on the gospel but that it has its grip on us before we entertain even the first ounce of effort. Only when we understand God has rescued us and has made us holy can we then patiently pursue holiness which is really a process or patient pursuit of becoming who we already are!

Patiently pursue holiness.

Want to be countercultural? Integrate patience into your lifestyle! Gary Thomas says “Impatience is a far more deadly enemy of spirituality than most of us realize! …If we spend ten, twenty, or even thirty years pounding a sinful habit into our lifestyle, we shouldn’t be surprised if the residual elements take a long time to be rooted out.”[4] Putting habitual sins to sleep takes time. Scripture leads us to wait: “But by faith we eagerly await through the Spirit the righteousness for which we hope.” (Galatians 5:5) Our pursuit of holiness should be a patient pursuit. Transformation takes time.

It’s our story being written

We hear a lot about people’s journeys and stories are a strong vehicle of communication to a truly postmodern person. We should see this patient pursuit as a process, as the unfolding of my story as I journey to become like Christ. It’s not a spirituality of performance. Holiness calls us to be real, transparent and honest. The journey of holiness isn’t about us doing what’s right only when others are looking. The pursuit requires introspection and honest candor from ourselves, the Holy Spirit and others. Jerry Bridges says “there will always be conflict within us between the “flesh,” or the sinful nature, and the Holy Spirit. This conflict is described by Paul in Galatians 5:17 “For the sinful nature desires what is contrary to the Spirit, and the Spirit what is contrary to the sinful nature. They are in conflict with each other, so that you do not do what you want.”[5] Romans 7 also shows this honest tension quite well. Bridges also says “what honest Christian would not admit to the frequent gap between his or her spiritual desires and actual performance?”[6] This pursuit, this life long process is our story unfolding as we morph into Christlikeness! It is a story that will have many high points, low points, surprises and bumps along the way.

Disciplined by Grace

For the grace of God that brings salvation has appeared to all men. It teaches us to say "No" to ungodliness and worldly passions, and to live self-controlled, upright and godly lives in this present age.” (Titus 2:11-12) Grace teaches us! It teaches us to say no to ungodliness, things like gossip, immorality, lying, greed, etc. It also teaches us to say no to worldly passion like “the inordinate desire for and preoccupation with the things of this life such as possessions, prestige, pleasure, or power.”[7] Grace also teaches us to say YES! Often holiness gets the bad rap of all the “don’t do’s” or only being prohibitive. But, it also has to do with the positive expression of Christian Character like the fruit of the Spirit in Galatians 5:22 (love, joy peace, patience, etc). Paul talks in Ephesians 4:22-24 about both “putting off” and “putting on” as key to patiently pursuing spirituality. It’s kind of like cutting and pasting to use a modern computer analogy! That is cutting out the unholy and pasting in the holy. This quote about John Bunyan sums up what I think Paul meant when he said grace disciplines:

Run, John, run. The law commands
But gives neither feet nor hands.
Better news the gospel brings;
It bids me fly and gives me wings.[8]

“We must be utterly convinced that there is nothing we can do to increase God’s love for us! Our role is to ‘hoist our sails’ and position ourselves to be open to God’s Spirit. God’s role is to propel us on the path of transformation.”[9] The moment we think we have to earn God’s love or favor, we’ve slipped over the edge into a performance and self-assuring spirituality.

Don’t go it alone!

Where I really start to grow toward holiness and develop is when I practice the disciplines in community. “The athletes of God: Ancient Christians from many cultures and walks of life, they gathered in the deserts of North Africa and the Middle East beginning in the third century. They created communities where they could train themselves in godliness (1 Tim 4:7) and run together ‘the race marked out for them’ (Heb 12:1).”[10] Maybe to us this means forming some form of an urban monastery; maybe triads of life-transformation groups; maybe it means taking retreats together to focus on the journey toward holiness; maybe it means getting on line regularly with a mentor or fellow journeyman and so on …

Don’t get stuck in a rut.

I like to employ a diversity of disciplines in my life. It’s easy to say it’s not working, so I’ll just stop doing them. Or, it is easy to get bored with practicing disciplines. We must patiently pursue holiness and that comes through incorporating a variety of means/disciplines. “If we think of the disciplines as spiritual food (another analogy popular with ancient Christians), then we should view them as a MENU not a recipe. We must choose from the menu according to our present spiritual hunger rather than stir them all together like ingredients into one big casserole.”[11] There is still a need for repetition and practice of disciplines to achieve progress and growth. One way to do this might be to take a whole season of time to focus on one discipline. The menu of disciplines is vast but a few would be disciplines of freedom to help us get unencumbered are the discipline of abstinence, simplicity, or stillness (solitude). To help us develop further spiritual heath we may choose Scriptural meditation, prayer or reticence (the control of the tongue). Crucial to this patient pursuit is focus. Practicing disciplines of thankfulness, contentment and worship can help us keep our eye you Jesus. Christ likeness is after all, our goal!

Going the Distance

There is a lot of talk today about finishing well. All of us long to hear the words “well done!” Remember, everything is gift! It is also helpful to observe moderation in taking up our pursuit of holiness through discipline. “Excessive discipline, the elders insisted, only leads to discouragement and giving up.”[12] Take the disciplines in bites size pieces and pace yourself for a marathon! More doesn’t mean better and sometimes slower is faster. Though you stumble, don’t give up. Though you may falter His grace can take you on.

We must live holy lives if we are to be Missional. It will tarnish the image of Christ on the world if they see us being inconsistent and hypocritical. As we take the good news to the world, that good news must have a solid grip in our lives. It is only as we experience Christ’s transformational power that we can become agents of transformation to a needy world. As Christ truly transforms us, we become free and we become passionate for His glory. This holy passion and freedom is attractive to the world looking for something to grab onto!

I conclude this by saying that in case you’re still wondering – we’ll never be perfect. But that doesn’t mean we can never be holy! Though the desert father’s standards of holiness were high, they recognized that the spiritual race requires distance runners, not sprinters. Let’s all commit to stay in the race, even if for just one more day.

Al Dyck

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[1] Stacey Patrick, Taking the “Ugh” out of Spiritual Disciplines, Discipleship Journal Issue 143, 50.
[2] Bridges, The Discipline of Grace, (Colorado Springs, Co, Navpress, 1994), 141.
[3] Jerry Bridges, 60. (This book does an excellent job of first helping us get our hands on the power of God’s grace and how only then can we rightly pursue holiness. Bridges clearly and concisely lays out the gospel and practically how we can preach it to ourselves daily in chapter 3. I can not do it justice in this short paragraph!)
[4] Gary Thomas, Authentic Faith, (Grand Rapids, MI, Zondervan, 2002).
[5] Bridges, 100.
[6] Bridges, 101.
[7] Bridges, 83.
[8] Bridges, 90.
[9] Patrick, 50.
[10] Paul Thigpin, Soul Building, Discipleship Journal Issue 143, 55.
[11] Thigpin, 56.
[12] Thigpen, 66.

History and Spirituality

Keven Macnish

What, therefore, have we to do with questions of philosophy? He to whom the Eternal Word speaks is free from theorizing. Far from this Word are all things and of Him all things speak – the Beginning Who also speaks to us. Without this Word no man understands or judges aright. He to whom it becomes everything, who traces all things to it and who sees all things in it, may ease his heart and remain at peace with God.

Oh God, You Who are the truth, make me one with you in love everlasting. I am often wearied by the many things I hear and read, but in You is all that I long for. Let the learned be silent before You; You alone speak to me.

The more recollected a man is, and the more simple of heart he becomes, the easier he understands sublime things, for he receives the light of knowledge from above. The pure, simple and steadfast spirit is not distracted by many labours, for he does them all for the honour of God. And since he enjoys inner peace he seeks no selfish end in anything. What, indeed, gives more trouble and affliction than uncontrolled desires of the heart?

Thomas a Kempis, The Imitation of Christ

This paper does not seek to answer the question, what does spirituality look like in an urban post-modern environment. To be honest, I have considered this for a long time and don’t have the first idea as to how to answer that question, and that is partly why I am here this weekend, to learn from you. Nor is it a tightly-argued philosophical tract – I have written too many of those over the last couple of years and felt like a break. What this paper does seek to address is one potential aspect of assessing how to determine the answer to the question.

In considering spirituality, I believe, it is important to keep it in the context of history. It is tempting in times of post-modern experimentation and in the spirit of seeking the new to reject history outright. Even the word “post-modern” suggests a rejection of that which has itself rejected the old, not in a reactionary fashion, but in a sense of moving even further beyond the new than the new itself.

Importance of History

Christianity today, indeed since the Reformation, is usually considered as a first-century faith, pursued in a contemporary manner. Nearly 2,000 years of history are ignored as we talk about an “ancient-future faith” (the name of a conference held in the UK last summer with Tony Campolo and Jackie Pullinger) or attempts to resurrect the first century church.

History, though, is more than a mere comparison of the “now” with the “then.” It is a continuum, in which there are clear developments as thoughts and theories are rejected, put into action, or carried to their logical conclusions by later theorists. An obvious example would be the relation of Marxism as spelled out in Das Kapital and that imposed on the Soviet Union for 75 years. The latter simply could not have preceded the former (were Marx to have had his way, it would not have succeeded it either, but that is a different story). Similarly, our understanding of astronomy can be seen to have developed from circular planetary orbits around the earth, to elliptical orbits around the sun, as better theories are discovered to account for weaknesses in their predecessors. Of course, there are anomalies, strokes of genius and luck, and unique characters throughout history. But even these were forced to react to the circumstances in which they found themselves, and were themselves the initiators of actions that would affect the lives and thoughts of those to come. In short, history tends to be a map of cause and effect relationships between people.

In this, Christianity is no different. The Bible is itself a history of man’s relationship with God, focussing on the Jewish nation, but just because the canon is now closed, it does not mean that God has ceased in His communications with people. As history has continued, so has the most important relationship, and so we ignore history at our peril. To assume that we can draw on what God has to say to us today solely by referring back to what He said to the disciples 2,000 years ago is at worst arrogant, at best cutting off our noses to spite our faces. We simply do not need to reject the history of Christianity in our understanding of the Lord’s guidance. To do so risks failing to understand why in many cases we believe what we believe, why and where we differ from other Christians, and why certain heresies are considered such. We also rob ourselves of the continuing story of God’s work with His people, where we fit into that story, and where we can learn from others.

Secondly, it is worth remembering that history is not simply a matter of progress. Not that I would for a moment want to endorse Thomas Kuhn’s philosophy of science with its inherent notion of incommensurability, still less apply it beyond its intended realm of the physical sciences, but it is true nonetheless that we are not always moving forwards. There may be times, periods of history, in which we stagnate or even regress, depending on which standpoint one takes. Personally, I believe that philosophy reached its zenith in the thirteenth century and has been on a downward slope ever since. Medicine, by comparison, has to my mind undoubtedly progressed such that we are now performing triple heart bypasses on a routine basis. Human nature, however, has as far as I can see remained pretty much constant since the dawn of history.

Thirdly, I do believe that those who don’t consider the past are condemned to repeat it. This is popularly noted in Hitler’s invasion of Russia coming undone through the long winter, as had been the case with Napoleon a hundred years earlier. It is also apparent in the course taken by most violent revolutions though (moderation followed by extreme response to the horrors that provoked the revolution, followed in turn by a dictatorship of sorts to bring order out of the chaos), and perhaps most obviously in our continued failure to trust a loving God in the same way as an entire nation doubted his benevolence following the exodus from Egypt.

Hence history is important and we run the risk of throwing a very mature baby out with the bathwater if we ignore it. To illustrate this, I want to consider two case studies. The first is a very broad overview of the history of philosophy from around 500BC to the present, while the second is a more focussed consideration of the role of the image of the desert in spirituality.

Incarnational Spirituality: Taking Downward Mobility Seriously

On 29 September, 2004, the British Labour Party received a jolt. Bono (Paul Hewson) of U2 fame called upon the party to credibly bear the “weight of expectation,” and do something historic with the Prime Minister’s Africa Commission.[1] He urged them to replace verbal wrangling with money, lots of money, in response to the 6,500 Africans who are dying every day of treatable and preventable diseases. He called it not a cause, but an emergency. It was unnerving because it challenged a spirituality that “makes a fool of our idea of justice, mocks our pieties, doubts our concern and questions our commitment.” It is not about charity, he said, but justice.

The Journey Down

Introducing his own involvement in the plight of Africa, Bono rehearsed what he described as “a journey” that began in 1984 when he spent a month in Ethiopia. It culminated at an orphanage where a man handed him his baby and said, “Take him with you.” This father was desperate that his child have a chance of survival. It opened up an entirely new and different world to Bono.

In so many words, I think Bono is describing a journey down. The journey down is, in part, taking up and owning the reality of 6,500 Africans who die every day of measles and small pox, without even touching on the numbers who die of AIDS. It owns some sort of responsibility for the short-lived existence of people who “don’t have a pound a day to pay for the drugs that could save their lives.”

Bono’s speech jarred me as well, so I conducted an informal survey of twenty random individuals at Glasgow University whose only qualification was that they had watched the bulk of the Labour Party Conference on television. Six of these were students between the ages of 18 and 25. Eight of them were PhD students between the ages of 30 and 40. The remaining six were professors of one stripe or another. I asked them only one question. “What, if anything, made the biggest impact on you as you watched the conference?” Sixteen of them said the speech by Bono.

Why? It is a question that raises the specter of the spiritual. I think there is a type of spiritual resonance that occurs in the heart of people who care when they are subtly, or not so subtly challenged to embark on the journey down. The journey down invites people to willingly bear the weight of expectation by promoting a spirituality that takes the dreams of the marginalized seriously and offers them hope for the future. It is a joyful descent in order to identify with the least of these (Mt. 25:40), rather than pander to cultural hegemony. The invitation to step down gives notice to something latent. It may be universal in dimension. It harkens of spirituality nonetheless.

Cruciform Spirituality

Spiritual formation that genuinely entertains a model of downward mobility will necessarily fly in the face of a mentality that is more apt to envision the franchise potential of ardent faith in the interest of personal and corporate aggrandizement. This brand of faith development lauds ascendancy in ways that are so thoroughly utilitarian that it cannot help but ignore the faceless mass of the marginalized.[2] Ascendancy, after all, is the much more natural inclination of human nature regardless of latent resources that would lead in the opposite direction. Apart from some counteracting model, such resources remain in genuine, yet unproductive latency.

An alternative model is happily supplied in a Christian spirituality that is not apologetically, but rather deliberately and thoroughly Christocentric. As such, it promotes the paradoxical nature of the incarnation by insisting that the strength of God (especially as it points forward into the future) be demonstrated in the fully contradictory terms of weakness. Bruce Chilton, for example, considers this model to be inherent in any language of transcendence or immanence, contending that the incarnation (inclusive of the cross) displays divine action and presence “through weakness, humiliation, and renunciation of power.”[3] Forms of spirituality, therefore, that follow these contours necessarily assume a similar model of the rejection of manipulative power in the concordant interest of the powerless. It is a spirituality, in other words, that takes on a decidedly cruciform shape and thinking.

The specifically downward mode the cross invokes is blatantly in view in the well-known Pauline kenosis passage recorded in Philippians 2:5-11. The capacity for broad application is surely intended in the hymn’s sweeping introduction with the emphatic imperative, touto phroneite, “Have this frame of mind…in you which was also in Christ Jesus.” Moreover, the purpose of Paul’s inclusion of the hymn here goes far beyond a spirituality of niceness within interpersonal relationships (as some have suggested with reference to 2:3[4]) but has the much grander goal of proposing that the very identity of God can only be detected commensurate with the self-abnegation of Jesus.[5] In Richard Bauckham’s terms, therefore, we are talking about a frame of mind and a form of life predicated upon the implications of God Crucified, who is (by virtue of the cross and proceeding out of the incarnation generally) “the God of the lowly and the humiliated, the God who hears the cry of the oppressed, the God who raises the poor from the dust.” It is this God who “dwells in the depths, not only with but as the lowest of the low.”[6]

In a sociological sense, I am advocating a way of living that does not shrink from contradicting the common proclivity towards ascendancy and its concurrent disdain for the radical demands of dwelling with and as the lowest. In essence, it entertains the life-situated reality of what Barbara Babcock understands as symbolic inversion, defined as “any act of expressive behavior which inverts, contradicts, abrogates, or in some fashion presents an alternative to commonly held cultural codes, values, and norms be they linguistic, literary or artistic, religious, or social and political.”[7] Intrinsic to inversion of this kind is the dialectic of power and weakness which is theologically grounded in the death and resurrection of Jesus. The inversion inherent in the cross (see 2 Corinthians 12:9-10 and 13:10), therefore, negates acceptable standards of evaluation (for Paul, Greco-Roman values) and insists on the transcendent value of love in action.

Furthermore, the inversion we see in the cross of Christ must obviously move away from the merely symbolic and into the realm of transformative power that has the capacity to foster a spirituality that displays (active) incarnational love.[8] It is in this context that Paul’s preoccupation with “the word of the cross” (1 Corinthians 1:18) is primarily aimed at those who are more susceptible to modes of ascendancy. Gerald Hawthorne rightly asserts that Paul’s approach in the Corinthian correspondence is essentially a reinterpretation of Old Testament texts (specifically, Isaiah 43:3-23 and 52:13-53:12) in order to advance an ethic of incarnational service on the Corinthian congregation.[9]

Rather than incidental, the contextual background of the Corinthian correspondence, in fact, proves to be highly significant when considering how the word of the cross informs spiritually determined behavior. Graham Tomlin, for one, argues convincingly that the “some” (tines) referenced by Paul at significant points throughout the letters make up only one faction of those who oppose him and, more importantly, can be characterized as nouveaux riches whose chief ambition is to rise to the top of the social pile.[10] Such a reading only adds to the starkness of the contrasts invoked by Paul in 1 Corinthians 4:8 (and also in 4:10), which serve to highlight an unhealthy attraction to satiety (kuros), wealth (ploutos) and power (basileus). It is indicative of an elitism predicated upon superior status.[11] Marshall likewise concludes that this terminology is couched in the rhetoric of status against which the apostle deliberately accentuates his own social inferiority.[12]

The logical question, of course, is what the word of the cross was intended to communicate in this context? In contrast to an elitist spirituality displayed in satiety, wealth and power, Paul offers the inversion of contradiction by confidently exhorting a spirituality premised on imitating him (4:16) because his “ways” are “in Christ,” wholly cruciform in shape and thought and action (1:17-18). Thus, Bauckham concludes that this is a healthy example of the apostle’s deliberate conformity to a movement of identification with the least, rejecting the image of the eminent traveling philosopher and refusing to pander to the wealthy.[13] The word of the cross projects a reversal into the midst of social clamoring, “turning the prevailing notions of weakness and power, and honour and shame upside down.”[14] The implications of this kind of inversion for a broader social context are noted by Stephen Barton who contends that the cross, then, becomes “a potent symbol for community formation” as it inspires “a basis for individual and communal identity…quite at odds with contemporary social classification.”[15]

Any serious approach to spirituality, therefore, that attempts conformity with what might be described as cruciform ought to be grounded in truly incarnational realities as displayed in vulnerability and weakness. It is, however, contradictory weakness that has the power to be provocative and creative and transformative.[16] It is an ongoing expression of what Tomlin refers to as theologia crucis that “presents an alternative understanding of power by grounding it in an understanding of God as one whose character and economy are revealed in the scandalous choice of the Christ crucified as the means of salvation.”[17] It is paradigmatic not only for Paul, but for all who are followers of the way of Jesus.

Responding to the Collapse of Self in Postmodernity

Ludwig Feuerbach (1967) took the Christian community to task by raising the objective question, “What distinguishes the Christian from other honourable people?” His answer was a harsh though honest indictment. “At most a pious face and parted hair.”[18] Behind it is the failure of the Church to adequately account for and respond to the rise of a culture benighted by suspicion and characterized by the casting aside of Enlightenment categories. A spirituality of surface piety simply does not have the resources, let alone the authenticity to interact with a culture in which the self is increasingly distrustful of any form of hierarchical order.

The self of postmodernity, both individual and corporate, as a genuine agent of decision and hopeful destiny, feels preempted by management theorists, economists, political agendas and religious programs. It is utterly suspicious of anything, in other words, that requires it to function as a performer in pre-determined roles. The result has been a collapse into what Thiselton refers to as an “imposed functionalism” that is inbred in social and symbolic systems.[19] In personal terms, what it leaves in its wake is fragmentation, indeterminacy, and whole scale and overt suspicion of any forms of totalizing discourse.[20]

Unfortunately, rather than interacting with and appropriately responding to a questioning and critical culture, Christian thought has historically contributed to the sense of collapsed selfhood by erroneously encouraging the disembodied self. In so doing, it blindly bought into Greek ideals of dualism that gave a disparaging look at organic existence and thus was disdainful of human delights, drives, needs and capacities.[21] This is all the more unfortunate as it ignored the plea of Barth that true selfhood is derived from being addressed by the creator, so that “our life as Christians is our life as organic constituents of the crust of this planet.”[22]

In the absence of an alternative agenda, the postmodern self has stumbled headlong into a fray that is epitomized by severe disconnectedness and a slew of uncomely social consequences. Foremost among these is the total repudiation of truth claims (seeing them as having become absorbed into both structures and spheres of power), to the point that healthy argument and reasonable reason have likewise collapsed into a rhetoric of force.[23] The dominant tone of dialogue in this context deteriorates into persuasive technique and, more heinously, coercive pressure. Alasdair MacIntyre rightly reminds us that the measurement of not only the rational, but the moral as well is only effective in the context of some commonly held tradition. Apart from it, accusation and blame and ultimately conflict ensue.[24]

I am endeavoring to promote an approach to Christian spirituality that is adequately equipped to offer a socially effective (formidable, in the right sense of the word) alternative. What might be the outcome if communities of faith were empowered to energize spirituality to such a degree that a rhetoric of force were countered with demonstrations of service? If, for example, communities of faith were peopled with many who not only articulate but also pursue downward mobility, could they not renew the current self, now in evident collapse? Could rhetorical jousting be replaced with renewed life in a fashion that satisfies those who legitimately question the postmodern hunger for diversity, plurality, and freedom from totalizing narratives (all concerns only viable to those with measurable levels of leisure and luxury) while disproportionate numbers of human beings struggle for daily survival?[25] The collapsed self, as Moltmann reminds us, in terms of actual human suffering, is neither modern, nor post-modern, nor ultra-modern, but simply a “protest against the surface progress of civilization.”[26]

It is all the more urgent given the urban context that has become the cauldron of postmodern insecurities. Recent statistics suggest that eighty per cent of the population of Western Europe is now unquestionably urban.[27] City sprawl of this magnitude raises questions of self-identity and social standing that could potentially lie dormant in other more pastoral settings. In the concentrated confines that defines city as city, however, the lament that generates them cannot be muffled. They are questions prompted by the unique problems associated with international blending, as well as the stark and persistent reminders of economic disparity that make up the unofficial boundaries in any city. Faith communities in this context have the opportunity to live out what Orlando Costas calls “true communion” (demonstrable spirituality) in order to contravene various representations of self-incapacitating systems that are endemic in urban situations.[28] Among other things, it is an opportunity that requires the church to descend in order to be the church for the poor.[29]

It is, moreover, a context in which to laud hermeneutical suspiciousness rather than quarantine it. This is especially the case when suspect readings of texts (far from being benign) generally and generously produce panaceas and utopias that only exacerbate already existing social disparity. Arne Rasmussen, in fact, encourages a hermeneutic of distrust, particularly with regard to “ecclesial theological politics” which fail to meet the compelling needs of the city by limiting Spirit empowered social transformation to categories that are largely passive.[30] A vision of broad transformation in urban affairs evolves only under the auspices of the captivating Spirit whose goal is always emancipation (2 Corinthians 3:17), especially as it might relate to social constructions that demonstrate the presence of God and the freeing of the communal imagination to envision it.[31]

Spirituality as Eschatological Practice

The capacity of the Holy Spirit to captivate and invigorate a communal imagination has clear eschatological implications. It is only the empowering work of the Spirit that enables the altering of perceptual conceptions of what is fully possible (future) in present actuality. Amos Wilder refers to this as a theopoetic that involves a spiritual battle for the hearts and wills of people via the imagination.[32] The emancipation of imaginative power is best located in the context of Christian eschatology where the “inventive imagination of love” serves as an anticipation of all the possibilities of God’s open future in such a way that it can transform the present.[33] It is dependant, in other words, on the Spirit’s role in stimulating a creative imagination in order to envision alternative (downwardly mobile) ways of participating in the world with a clear picture of the future in view. Trevor Hart thereby concludes, “Imagination is thus a vital category in eschatology as in theology more generally.[34]

We must not forget, however, that the goal of Spirit-released creativity includes and highlights real living (spirituality) in terms of God’s vision of the way things will be. Bauckham explains it as the “concrete, day-to-day world seen in heavenly and eschatological perspective.”[35] It is a perspective fully capable of impacting the entirety of the Christian experience, including notions of conversion and rebirth.[36] But its objective is to invoke a spirituality that anticipates, demonstrates and projects the future into the present. Hart’s metaphor of musical modulation is a helpful one in this regard. Modulation is a simple technique that involves using a chord belonging to an old key, but in such a unique way that it anticipates the eventual arrival of a new one. In the process, it completely transforms the present melodic moment, but always with a view to pointing ahead of itself to the new which is soon to be heard.[37]

Eschatology so embraced contributes to the notion of inversion by contradicting the baser elements of the present world which corrupt all that is meant to bear the image of God. Spirituality, likewise, has the potential to embrace the contradiction of corruption when it is motivated (at least in part) by the tension that is generated by the call of God to live in the here-and-now shaped by the power of God’s future actively at work in communal settings.[38] As such, it becomes incarnational as it portrays the life of God and preserves His image in the present world. It is a spirituality that is fully aware of present corruption, but stands in contradiction to it, inspired by the God of promise.

In this sense, then, the potency of truly Christian eschatology is measured by its ability to erupt in and energize social practice that is genuinely transformative. Among other things, it ought to generate what Yoder refers to as “a posteriori political practice” which lends social activism its sincerely evangelical eschatological significance.[39] Furthermore, an eschatological vision adds impetus to a spirituality of transformative social practice by highlighting the importance of temporal plot in such a way that the promised future is always in view.[40] The Christian story, after all, is one that promises a definite and exhilarating conclusion.

How the Story Winds Down

Narrative-theory has, indeed, reinforced the centrality of plot in any storyline that is worth the read. The question that is now up for grabs, however, is which story is being developed and which storyline should we follow? Postmodernity’s disdain for any sort of meta-narrative cannot be swept under the carpet, but must be contended with and explored for reasons why. In his discussion of “white myth,” for example, Jacques Derrida echoes Nietzsche in viewing metaphor (evidence of a creative storyline) as generally concealing values and power-bids under the guise of promoting truth-claims.[41] When religious narratives play into bids for power, they limit the scenario to only winners and losers and are justifiably suspect. On the other hand, perhaps it is appropriate (while happily conceding revulsion toward will-to-power episodes) to question whether there is not a healthier and more exciting storyline available.

When, in fact, the narrative is theologically credible it alludes to a storyline that is profoundly and distinctively different. Moltmann suggests that it “is grounded not in the will to dominate, but in love to the future of things” and engaged in a process that calls forth “practical movement and change.”[42] I am contending that in order for movement to genuinely assume practicality, and in order for love to replace the domination of the will, downward mobility must be seriously considered as the general direction our storyline takes. By its nature, I suggest, spirituality that demonstrates itself in descending rather than ascending modes always honors localized stories even in the midst of a new creation metanarrative that cannot (biblically) be surrendered.

The storyline I am suggesting explicates a critical directional theme Bauckham considers essential to the broader theological story that he refers to as “to all by way of the least.” It is a good news story that “engages with the injustices of the world on its way to the kingdom of God. This means that as well as the outward movement of the church’s mission in geographical extension and numerical increase, there must also be this (in the Bible’s imagery) downward movement of solidarity with the people at the bottom of the social scale of importance and wealth. It is to these – the poorest, those with no power or influence, the wretched, the neglected – to whom God has given priority in the kingdom, not only for their own sake, but also for the rest of us who can enter the kingdom only alongside them.”[43]

Among other things, taking this downward direction as we follow the narrative flow of the story allows us to answer the question, “How can the rich be saved?” It is a pertinent question given the priorities of the Bible in general, to say nothing of the warnings of Jesus in particular. As Bauckham contends, it is only as they come alongside the poor and the marginalized. After all, the personalized stories of the rich are worthy (perhaps we should say they have the potential to be worthy) as well. How? Zaccheus (Luke 19:1-10) is their (our) model of conversion and ensuing spirituality, not by reason of his stature, but by virtue of his wealth. Jesus declares that he must (dei) stay at the home of this overly prosperous tax collector. This Christological “must” is the only hope of the rich. It means their story has a future. Jesus does stay with him and the aftermath is radical. Zaccheus immediately offers half of his possessions to the poor and whomever he has defrauded he offers to pay back four times over. What is Jesus’ evaluation? “Today, salvation has come to this house.”

At the heart of the Zaccheus account is a hermeneutic of justice that must inform true spirituality and is especially provocative for those in positions of privilege. Similarly, James 1:27 suggests that visiting widows and orphans is indicative of pure religion. The prophet Amos (5:21-24) declares that worship is no more than noise if it does not solicit a flood of justice. The eschatological Christ (Matthew 25:31-46) metes out judgment based on what has been done to the least of these and avows that in so doing true homage has been rendered to him. And Isaiah (58:6-8) calls for fasting (spiritual fervor) that produces freedom for the oppressed and food for the hungry and homes for the poor.[44] Beyond this, as Wolterstorff contends, a biblical understanding of justice is not limited to a basic sense of rights, but is intended to insure the “enjoyment” of shalom (completeness) and so requires an ethical community that freely acknowledges God’s priority for those who have been relegated to the margins, whether economically, socially, racially or culturally.[45] Behind it is a hermeneutic that understands the world itself as sacrament.[46]

And yet, there is more to the story. Given the overarching biblical narrative that looks forward to and anticipates the creating of all things new (Revelation 21:5), there is a sense in which the paradoxical becomes reality, inversion itself is inverted, and so down is up. As the story winds down, in other words, it is really only winding up.

The rectifying of inversion is certainly in view in texts that generally laud paradox: James 4:10, “Humble yourselves in the presence of the Lord and He will exalt you;” 1 Peter 5:6, “Therefore humble yourselves under the mighty hand of God, that He may exalt you at the proper time;” 2 Corinthians 12:10, “…when I am weak, then I am strong;” and Matthew 10:39, “He who has found his life will lose it, and he who has lost his life for My sake will find it.” The journey down, therefore, is not pessimistic, but joyful because we are moving toward the renewal of all things when inversion is no longer necessary and every paradox has proven itself true. Likewise, as inversion comes full circle, either side of paradox is equally valid so that we can credibly maintain that the way up is also the way down. Then, as Walter Wink rightly asserts, the real issues that infringe upon communal spirituality are not so much epistemological as they are ethical.[47]

Furthermore, inversion come full circle makes room for the rich when their resources are deployed in the interest of justice for the marginalized who are often at their very doorsteps.[48] Saint Paul, after all, does not decry money itself (1 Timothy 6:10), but improper attachments to it. Pragmatic compassion must be resourced, and people of privilege are critically situated to provide for it. Healthy eschatological practice, therefore, requires of the rich a loose attachment to their wealth for the sake of a piety that entertains a hermeneutic of justice as much as anything else.

Story and journey are but two metaphors for a potentially engaging spirituality. The one suggests plot developing toward conclusion. The other prescribes movement in a descending direction. But each of them begs the question as to whether or not missional communities (in the interest of mission) can afford to aspire to anything less than a spirituality of inclusiveness for all by the way of the least. Apart from this, evangelical attempts at “postmodern ministry” will continue to foster elitism and cater to middle and upper classes who are already upwardly mobile, educated, detached and white. We will continue to populate faith communities with people who can afford to argue over the mere aesthetics of spirituality. Mission itself will suffer for it.

I am urging, on the other hand, that Spirit-captivated imagination can paradoxically empower us toward a spirituality that propels us in an entirely different direction. I think it has the capacity to re-engage the shrunken self of postmodernity by replacing a rhetoric of force with demonstrations of service. It is also invigorated by a clear vision of the promised future that puts eschatology into social practice with transformative goals. And, fundamentally, it is spirituality that is cruciform in thought and behavior and attitude. Thus, it beacons us in an inverted way to deliberately aspire to downward mobility which is above all incarnational. And mission will be the beneficiary as we live in the storyline of God, for all by way of the least.

Wesley White
Scottish Universities Theological Forum

 

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[1] For the complete text of Bono’s speech, go to www.labour.org.uk/ac2004news?ux_news_id=ac04bono.

[2] For examples of this, see John Drane, The McDonaldization of the Church: Spirituality, Creativity, and the Future of the Church (London: Darton, Longman & Todd, 2000), 89-95. Drane suggests that a biblically robust spiritual development will, on the contrary, challenge utilitarianism on all fronts. Stuart Murray denotes the same inclination towards utilitarian interests in terms of the current phenomena of pax Americana which is suspiciously similar to the pax Romana that so engulfed the mindset of the New Testament era. See his, Post-Christendom: Church and Mission in a Strange New World (Carlisle: Paternoster Press, 2004), 287.

[3] See, Bruce D. Chilton, God in Strength: Jesus’ Announcement of the Kingdom (Freistadt: Plochl, 1979), 98.

[4] See, Toward Moral and Religious Maturity, ed. James Fowler (New York: Silver Burdett Co., 1980), 60-61. Fowler argues for an approach to constitutive-knowing of others in a social context that focuses on the identity of worth of another, appreciates how this can be religiously maximized by passages like Philippians 2:3, and produces nice relationships in which all are worthy.

[5] That the identity of God is critically in view in the kenosis hymn is readily apparent when we note its insistence on Jesus’ equality with God. N.T. Wright, The Climax of the Covenant: Christ and Law in Pauline Theology (Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1991), 58-66, reminds us that there is no question as to Christ’s equality with God. The point of the apostle is simply His attitude towards it.

[6] Our identity with God’s identity, according to Bauckham, turns on Christ’s pouring out of himself, incarnationally, in living and in dying. “He did not understand his equality with God as a matter of being served by others,” he writes, “but as something he could express in service, obedience, self-renunciation and self-humiliation for others. Therefore he renounced the outward splendor of the heavenly court for the life of a human being on earth, one who lived his obedience to God in self-humiliation even to the point of the particularly shameful death by crucifixion, the death of a slave.” See, Richard Bauckham, God Crucified: Monotheism and Christology in the New Testament (Carlisle: Paternoster Press, 1998), 57-77.

[7] See, Barbara Babcock, The Reversible World (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1978), 14.

[8] The notion that symbolic inversion is inadequate unless it is capable of propelling adherents into action that has a transformative effect is suggested by Alexandra Brown, The Cross and Human Transformation (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1995), 150-57. Brown’s concern rightly gives expression to some feminist’s fears that certain uncritical theologies of the cross merely perpetuate the acceptability of suffering and the justifying of injustice.

[9] See, Gerald F. Hawthorne, Tradition and Interpretation in the New Testament (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1987), 195-215.

[10] In determining the demography of the Corinthian situation, too much weight can be attached to the description supplied in 1 Corinthians 1:26, which suggests that certainly some were considered wise, powerful, and noble, or at least wanted to be considered so. Tomlin, to his credit, is quick to recognize this. See, Graham Tomlin, The Power of the Cross: Theology and the Death of Christ in Paul, Luther and Pascal (Carlisle: Paternoster Press, 1999), 41-46.

[11] Some have suggested that such terminology of elitism was part and parcel of a much more widely spread Greek hybristic tradition in which excessive behavior along this order was valued. See, S. Pogolov, Logos and Sophos: The Rhetorical Situation of 1 Corinthians (SBLDS; Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1992), 228-30.

[12] See, Peter Marshall, Enmity in Corinth: Social Conventions in Paul’s Relations with the Corinthians (Tubingen: Mohr, 1987), 210. Further corroboration of the validity of Marshall’s conclusions is to be had in B. Malina, The New Testament World: Insights from Cultural Anthropology (Atlanta: John Knox Press, 1981), 25-35, wherein attention is drawn to the importance of honor and shame in the Mediterranean world. Pickett argues against any eschatological approach to 1 Corinthians 4:8, in favor of a purely sociological one that suggests a situation in which certain factions were intent upon clamoring up the social ladder. See, Raymond Pickett, The Cross in Corinth: The Social Significance of the Death of Jesus (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1997), 45, 181-82.

[13] See, Richard Bauckham, Bible and Mission: Christian Witness in a Postmodern World (Carlisle: Paternoster Press, 2003), 52-53. Bauckham suggests that “the powerful people and the upwardly mobile people had to take Paul as they found him, just as they had to take the crucified Christ as God’s radical contradiction of their values.”

[14] Pickett, The Cross in Corinth, 211.

[15] Symbolic behavior, as it relates to Paul’s focus on the word of the cross in the Corinthian letters, is legitimated by the Christ who was “crucified in weakness” (1 Corinthians 13:4). See, Stephen Barton, “Paul and the Cross: A Sociological Approach”, Theology 85 (1982), 17. Paul’s call for mimesis (4:16) is seen contrarily by Elizabeth Castelli, Imitating Paul: A Discourse of Power (Louisville: Westminster/John Knox Press, 1991), 129, as simply imposing repressive hierarchical models of power. This analysis, however, fails due to lack of contextual astuteness.

[16] This is precisely what John Howard Yoder understood as “evangelical” social practice. It is a mode of spirituality that communicates news, and it is news that is attested to be good. Yoder describes it as adhering to the primordial way that has the power to “transform culture.” See, John Howard Yoder, The Royal Priesthood: Essays Ecclesiological and Ecumenical (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1994), 373.

[17] Tomlin, The Power of the Cross, 100.

[18] Ludwig Feuerbach, ‘Epigrams’, in Thoughts on Death and Immortality (Eng. Berkeley and London: University of California Press, 1980), 214, 205. Feuerbach argued that theism invariably reduces the humanness of humanity by allowing it an easy route to escapism.

[19] See, Anthony C. Thiselton, Interpreting God and the Postmodern Self: On Meaning, Manipulation and Promise (Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1995), 122.

[20] The reaction to these developments, according to David Harvey, has been an inordinate preoccupation with self-protection, self-interest, and desire for power and the recovery of control. These are fostered by a sense of loss of stability, loss of identity, and complete loss of confidence in whatever purports to be norms of a global scale. See, David Harvey, The Condition of Postmodernity: An Enquiry into the Origins of Cultural Change (Oxford: Blackwell, 2^nd edn., 1989), 101.

[21] For a very helpful review of this sad history, see Nancey Murphy, ‘Emodied Selfhood’, in James Wm. McClendon, Jr., Witness: Systematic Theology, vol.3 (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 2000), 124. Murphy also offers a more appropriate response by suggesting a healthy Darwinism and the insightful findings in the advances in Neuroscience.

[22] Karl Barth, Church Dogmatics, vol. III, Trans. G.W. Bromiley et al (Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark), 42.2.

[23] Thiselton, Interpreting God and the Postmodern Self, 134.

[24] See, Alasdair MacIntyre, Three Rival Versions of Moral Enquiry (London: Duckworth, 1990), 57. MacIntyre is cautioning as to the dangers inherent in sociality when only internal criteria are turned to when addressing moral sensibilities. When such is the design, it is always the underprivileged who pay the price for postmodern disconnectedness.

[25] Moltmann is a case in point. In his estimation, the preference for the local over the global aspires well, but still ends up with free market uniformity that caters to “Coca Cola-ized” and “Macdonald-ized” stories. Talk of pluralism, he suggests, is obscene when diversity is, in reality, an expression of the extremely diversified existences of the rich and poor. See, Jurgen Moltmann, ‘Can Christian Eschatology Become Post-Modern?’, in God Will Be All In All: The Eschatology of Jurgen Moltmann ed. Richard Bauckham (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2001), 263.

[26] Moltmann, God Will Be All In All, 261.

[27] See, Robert Calvert, City Snaps: Pastoral Resources from Isaiah (Edinburgh: Saint Andrews Press, 2003), 19.

[28] At stake is the credibility of the message of love. Demonstrable spirituality, according to Costas, must provide communal models that give visibility to the real possibility of social relations that do not conform to classist, racist, or sexist divisions. They are able to construct a “vision of a far better future.” See, Orlando Costas, Liberating News: A Theology of Contextual Evangelization (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1989), 139-40.

[29] A priority for the poor specifically and the marginalized generally cannot be overlooked in the Bible. Karl Barth, ‘The Christian Community and the Civil Community’, in Against the Stream (London: S.C.M Press, 1934), 36, suggests the ecclesiological implications of this with typical lack of restraint. “The church is witness of the fact that the Son of God came to seek and save the lost. And this implies that, casting all false impartiality aside, the church must concentrate first on the lower and lowest levels of human society. The poor, the socially and economically weak and threatened, will always be the object of its primary and particular concern.”

[30] Rasmussen has in view an inadequate praxis that is made so by restrictive rather than interactive and radical piety. Because of it, the marginalized remain marginalized, only more so because of stricter and more defined alienation. The backdrop to his thought is the revolutionary notion that Spirit empowerment must be socially provocative if it is to be understood as spiritual at all. See, Arne Rasmussen, The Church as Polis: From Political Theology to Theological Politics as Exemplified by Jurgen Moltmann and Stanley Hauerwas (South Bend: University of Notre Dame Press, 1995), 375-82.

[31] The congruence of significant transformation, social and personal, with particular pneumatological nuances is a major contribution of Moltmann, It effectually locates the power of the future in the present via the Spirit of the resurrection, and as such is nothing less than a paradigmatic anticipation of the new creation within the old. See, Jurgen Moltmann, The Spirit of Life: A Universal Affirmation Tr. M. Kohl (London: SCM Press, 1992), 153.

[32] See, Amos Wilder, Theopoetic: Theology and the Religious Imagination (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1976), 122. Such a notion must be seen in contrast to the purely sociological approach of, for example, George Steiner, who referred to “axiomatic fictions” in which language serves to energize our living towards tomorrow. In the sense that Steiner conceives it, a hopeful reality is simply a social, linguistic construct. See, George Steiner, After Babel (2^nd edition, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1992), 167.

[33] See, Jurgen Moltmann, Theology of Hope: On the Ground and Implications of Christian Eschatology Tr. J.W. Leitch (London: SCM Press, 1967), 34-35.

[34] See, Trevor Hart, ‘Imagination for the Kingdom of God? Hope, Promise, and the Transformative Power of an Imagined Future’, in God Will Be All In All: The Eschatology of Jurgen Moltmann ed. Richard Bauckham (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2001), 75. Eldin Villafane, A Prayer for the City: Further Reflections on Urban Ministry (Austin, TX: AETH, 2001), 18, likewise contends for the liberating Spirit’s (italics mine) desire to free from all enslavement. This is distinct from Freedom/Liberation as defined by liberal and enlightenment heritage, but as Biblical promise.

[35] See, Richard Bauckham, The Theology of the Book of Revelation (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1993), 8. Here, of course, Bauckham’s point is how an eschatological perspective serves to counter the imperialistic program of Rome which was the contextual framework of John’s revelation.

[36] Moltmann contends that the eschatological notion of the future made present is radically demonstrated in the Christian experience of conversion and rebirth, for “mere interruption just disturbs; conversion creates new life.” See, Jurgen Moltmann, The Coming of God: Christian Eschatology Tr. M. Kohl (London: SCM Press, 1996), 22.

[37] See, Trevor Hart, ‘Imagination for the Kingdom of God?’, 73-74.

[38] For a more detailed explanation of the concept of contradiction of corruption, see Trevor Hart, Faith Thinking: Dynamics of Christian Theology (Gospel and Culture) (London: SPCK, 1995), 107. Hart’s idea of contradiction of corruption resounds with echoes of Moltmann’s theological approach in which the present “stands in contradiction” with what God has promised. See, Moltmann, Theology of Hope, 103.

[39] Spirituality is in view here, as well, as Yoder uses posteriori in reference to the political impact of Jesus and those who follow the way of Jesus. Adherence to the way of Jesus defines what it means to be evangelical. See, John Howard Yoder, The Royal Priesthood: Essays Ecclesiological and Ecumenical (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1994), 360.

[40] The idea of “temporal plot” borrows from recent innovations in narrative-theory. For a fuller examination of these innovations, see Mark Stibbe (ed.), The Gospel of John as Literature (Leiden: Brill, 1993), 156. The critical nature of temporal plot is likewise argued by Pannenberg. See, Wolfhart Pannenberg, Basic Questions in Theology (London: SCM, 1970) vol.I, 96-136.

[41] Cited in Anthony C. Thiselton, New Horizons in Hermeneutics: The Theory and Practice of Transforming Biblical Reading (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1992), 141. Renewed attention to will-to-power themes is evident throughout the sensibilities of the mosaic generation, and they are justified in treating harbingers of it as suspect.

[42] Without resorting to the vernacular of narrative-theory, Moltmann nonetheless offers theological concepts that can only contribute to a compelling story as they “do not limp after reality”…”but they illuminate reality by displaying its future.” See, Theology of Hope, 36.

[43] All of the critical lines in the biblical story, according to Bauckham, are assumed under the broad directional focus of moving from the one to the many. This approach, he suggests, allows us to read the narrative holistically without sacrificing commitment to the metanarrative. See, Richard Bauckham, Bible and Mission in a Postmodern World (Carlisle: Paternoster Press, 2003), 49-54. R. Fung suggests that the biblical emphasis on the least of these calls the church to a “spirituality of involvement.” See, Raymond Fung, The Isaiah Vision: An Ecumenical Strategy for Congregational Evangelism (New York: WCC Press, 1992), 48.

[44] Brueggemann understands Isaiah 58 to be promoting a spirituality marked by lowered standards of living so that the needs of the underprivileged might be met. See, Walter Brueggemann, Using God’s Resources Wisely: Isaiah and Urban Possibility (Westminster: John Knox Press, 1993), 67.

[45] Shalom primarily has to do with completeness in relation to God, self , others, and nature. See, Nicholas Wolterstorff, Until Justice and Peace Embrace (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1983), 69-71. God’s siding with the poor is intoned in the now-famous statement of Barth: “…God always takes His stand unconditionally and passionately on this side and on this side alone: against the lofty and on behalf of the lowly; against those who already enjoy right and privilege and on behalf of those who are denied and deprived of it.” See, Karl Barth, Church Dogmatics Tr. T.H.L. Parker et al. (Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1955), vol.2, 1:386. Similarly, Julio de Santo Ana, Towards a Church of the Poor (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 1981, 3: “In a world of scarcity in which everyone is in want, poverty would be a common challenge to everybody. But in a world of abundance in which many people are poor in order that a few others stay rich, poverty – or better, wealth – is an infamy. Where the rich refuse to give up their privileges and share their plenty, their situation asks for reproach.”

[46] The world in a sacramental sense is more common in the Eastern approach to orthodoxy. It is helpful when considering what is an appropriate response to the needs of the world. Schememann suggests that under the weight of this sacramental view an informed spirituality is not optional but ineluctable. See, Alexander Schememanne, For the Life of the World: Sacraments and Orthodoxy (Crestwood, NY: St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 1973), 118.

[47] For example, Wink suggests that in dealing with the powers in control, we are invited into a “journey toward spiritual awareness” enacting that “the way up is the way down” in ethical dimensions. See, Walter Wink, Naming the Powers: The Language of Power in the New Testament (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1984), 143-45.

[48] For example, New Haven, Connecticut, in the American context, though situated amidst the Ivy League class of Yale University, is now the fourth-poorest city in the United States. As far back as 1990, poverty rates ran as high 40 and 50 percent. William Finnegan suggests that relational supports suffer the heaviest toll in the wake of this kind of social breakdown. “There’s more to downward mobility than decreased purchasing power. No dollar figure can be placed on the loss to individual members when a community declines, or a family breaks up, or a closely knit village must be left behind.” Because of relational loss of this magnitude, entire neighborhoods fall prey to “the profusion of quasi-tribal arrangements generically known as gangs.” See, William Finnegan, Cold New World: Growing Up in a Harder Country (New York, NY: Random House, Inc., 1998), xxii-xxiii.

The Gift of Spiritual Friendship

A Story to Set the Stage

The life streams of Bill, Albert and Derek have once again converged on this dreary Monday evening. The three leaders have gathered to connect and share their experiences of God’s presence and activity over the previous week. After a round of lighthearted jabs at Albert (Al, for short) over the results of the U.S. presidential election, Derek suddenly shifts the mood to a more serious note. He is visibly troubled. He takes the initiative and shares that earlier in the week he has had a serious run-in with his boss over the re-assigning of a colleague to a different departmental team (on the grounds that the colleague is “ill-suited to the challenge at hand”). Derek is still reeling from what he perceives as a hasty, slap-in-the-face decision handed down to one of their team’s most respected participants.

As Bill and Al listen to Derek’s emotional recounting of this incident, Bill proposes that the three pause and pray. “Let’s invite God’s presence into this evening”, Bill urges in earnest. “I sense that Jesus may not only want to unburden Derek, but may well want to minister to us all in some special ways tonight.” After a refreshing dose of silence before the Lord and a heartfelt prayer for the Spirit to guide their time together, Bill invites Derek to be the first “speaker” for the evening. He also suggests that he himself assume the role of “listener”, while Al takes on the role of “observer.” The three know the routine well and settle into those postures without hesitation. Bill opens this “attending exercise” by inviting Derek to tell a little bit more about his journey this past week. For nearly twenty minutes Derek unfolds the story of his tense interaction with his boss, with Bill occasionally interjecting poignant questions. Derek’s pained facial expressions betray his ongoing agitation over this incident. Bill’s probing questions help Derek to explore his reactions to his boss. They also help him to get in touch with what Christ may be speaking to him through this conflict.

As Derek processes his week aloud, he notes in himself something he has not seen earlier (even though he has already gained some insight through reflectively journaling that heated exchange with his boss). Thanks to a well-placed question by Bill, Derek begins to see that he is highly critical of his boss and overly sensitive to his fast-moving leadership style. Derek seems surprised to note that he has indeed reacted out of some unresolved hurt in his own life. This hurt he realizes is related to a painful incident in his previous job, when he felt misunderstood by his boss and hastily “relieved” from an important project. Derek sees that he has been unfairly projecting his own experience into this recent conflict, and in turn has been drawing some harsh conclusions about his boss’s motives and “reckless” decision-making pattern.

After a fifteen minute barrage of reflective processing about his week, Derek has become more self-aware and less burdened emotionally. He notes God putting His finger on the critical spirit he tends to exhibit when relating to his boss. He sees that he has been moving in mistrust, rather than honestly seeking to assist and under-gird his boss’s decision-making. Al closes this round of the attending exercise by sharing his own perceptions of what he senses God may have been doing or saying in the unfolding of Derek’s story this evening.

This sort of exchange is repeated for the next 40 minutes. Bill and Al each take on the role of the speaker for a 20 minute segment, with the other two men rotating in the roles of listener and observer. Like Derek, both men also find useful gleanings from this communal attempt at discerning God’s presence and activity in their lives over the previous week. The three men end the evening together by taking time to pray over some of the issues which have arisen through their interaction. After some more last-minute jabs at Al for voting for George Bush, the three close the evening over good beer and cheap-imitation Cuban cigars. They rejoice once again over their decision to journey together as spiritual friends.

From Simple Friendship to “Spiritual Friendship”

The longing for relational connectedness in community is often heralded as the single greatest heart-cry of the emerging culture of Europe and North America. But any “communing” of souls eventually falls short in its capacity to positively change us unless the Spirit of God is actively and collectively sought as the most highly-desired Party. When that hunger and expectancy for God to “show up” or “move” is present among a gathering of Christians, large or small, the Spirit’s presence and activity is often experienced in dynamic, life-changing ways.

While I believe the above to be true, I am also convinced that we in the Body of Christ often overlook one of the most consistently powerful expressions of Spirit-enlivened community - the realm of Christ-centered friendships. Here, the power of the Spirit is often released in great measure to effect deeper joy and transformation in our lives. I am not referring here to a friendship defined by a simple sharing of common interests; I am talking about a special wedding of hearts, where two or more people covenant together to foster each other’s spiritual development (i.e. awareness of and response to God’s presence and work in their lives). This covenanting for growth aspect makes these relationships more than simple friendships; they are “spiritual friendships”, representing another class of relationships altogether. In our opening story, Derek, Bill and Al had in their relationship entered this realm of transformative friendship.

(Okay, male readers, if my opening story felt a bit artificial to you, I invite you not to run away from possibility-thinking here. Dr. Hud McWilliams notes that being open and vulnerable is not natural to human beings – especially men. That means when men first come together and begin engaging in deep heart-to-heart sharing and accountability, it is not unusual for that interaction to feel somewhat artificial (initially). If most men are not used to that depth of personal or intimate relating, it’s not surprising that it might feel strange or awkward or somehow less than genuine. Dr. McWilliams contends that if men are willing to push through those early awkward feelings, they can find friendships that may prove deeper and more long-lasting than what they ever imagined possible).[1]

Just so we are clear about what is meant by a spiritual friendship, I offer a couple of brief definitions by two contemporary authors who have delved deep into the subject. Douglas Rumford, in Soul Shaping, defines a spiritual friendship as a Christ-centered, intentional relationship between at least two people, where these individuals focus on the nurture of each other’s spiritual life.[2] According to Rumford, this sort of friendship does not require one to be an expert, but simply to be spiritual peers who regularly come together and commit themselves to growing in Christ. David Benner, taking the lead from the spiritual writer, Margaret Guenther, adds more to this by defining spiritual friendship as “a gift of hospitality, presence and dialogue” given to another[3] Although he uses this in the context of a relationship between a spiritual director and the one he directing, Benner sees the aim or “task” of spiritual friends as helping the parties involved “discern the presence, will and leading of the Spirit of God.”[4]

In our day and age we tend to dilute our definition of significant friendship by making it hinge upon companionship and the simple holding of certain interests in common (e.g. similar hobbies, club allegiances, or business or social endeavors, etc.). Too often this is as far as two or more “friends” might ever choose to go together. It’s interesting that the ancients viewed friendship as the very crown of life. C.S. Lewis saw friendship as one of the four human loves, rich in its capacity to bring out the multi-faceted beauty of God in an intimate circle of relationship among “kindred souls”. So much is lost when we settle for the safety of “hang-out buddies” who never enter our souls, who never challenge us to grow, who never allow God’s glory to be reflected through genuine humility, sacrificial love and an enduring commitment to our well-being and growth.

The biblical storyline is replete with beautiful examples of what friendship can mean, the classic example being the relationship between David and Jonathan. That story begins in I Samuel 18:1 (NLT)</